The First Shave of the Season
June 6th, 2016
Now that the weather is finally starting to act like spring and we’re safely past Memorial Day, it’s time to start donning warm weather attire. My children, naturally, have been wearing shorts daily since mid-February but now I’m finally ready to join them.
This weekend, I dug my spring skirts and capris out of the closet and surveyed them with a mixture of pleasure and dread. Pleasure because I am rather fond of my summer wardrobe with its bright colors and patterns. Dread because before I can wear my fun clothes, I must survive the first shave of the season.
Ugh. I hate shaving my legs.
It’s not that I go completely au naturale in the winter. Despite my reasonably solid street cred as a ‘crunchy’ mamma, I shave periodically throughout the winter months. But it’s definitely with far less frequency than is required by the impending prospect of non-family members catching a glimpse of my calves.
So the springtime sun brings with it the need to spend some prolonged quality time with my Gillette Mach 3 razor. It’s really not my favorite way to spend my precious parental free time, I’ll tell you that. For one thing, I’m extremely near-sighted. So near-sighted that I have to identify my shower accoutrements by bottle shape and color because I can’t read the labels. Not being able to see your target clearly can cause problems when you’re wielding a sharp object. Plus, I tend to miss spots, but only notice as I’m casually crossing my legs at an important work meeting the next day.
I’m also clumsy. Maybe it’s because I can’t see, but I don’t have great balance. The master bathroom in our house only has a shower, so I have to contort myself while standing on one foot when I shave my legs. Impersonating a drunken flamingo in a small, enclosed space while wielding a sharp object can also cause problems.
These are the sacrifices we women make in the name of beauty. Particularly in the summer, I feel like our efforts to look socially acceptable are nothing less than heroic. I decided to buy a new swimsuit this spring and the experience darn near killed me. A women’s magazine told me that a tankini (a two-piece where the top is a tank that covers your stomach) was a particularly good look if you wanted to minimize your tummy. Lies, all lies. It’s pretty cute when you’re standing up, but the second you sit down, all your excess tummy squish oozes out from the gap between the top and bottom.
But after a lengthy period of self-conscious dithering, I ultimately decided that I didn’t care. I loved the black and white floral pattern of that suit and decided that a little tummy ooze was a small price to pay for something that made me smile every time I looked at it. Life’s too short to stress about looking perfect in beachwear when you’ve got three kids to prevent from drowning.
So if you notice that I’ve missed a spot with the razor or that my legs are covered with bandages, just go with it, okay?